


Socks (Platonic)

by cminerva



Category: Ted Lasso (TV)
Genre: Canon-typical swearing, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Roy is a grump, Socks (Platonic), but he's got a lot of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cminerva/pseuds/cminerva
Summary: Roy Kent doesn’t make grand gestures.  Or little ones, either.  It was just—they’re just fucking socks, alright?
Relationships: Keeley Jones/Roy Kent, Ted Lasso & Keeley Jones, Ted Lasso & Roy Kent
Comments: 19
Kudos: 95





	Socks (Platonic)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Myself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myself/gifts).



> So a passing reference to hideous socks in MechanicalHeart's fic ("A night with Ted Lasso : 1/5 stars") set off a delightful conversation between myself and (user) Myself about the origins of said socks. And then, even though I had a whole list of existing WIPs to work on today, I wrote this. 
> 
> A thousand thanks to Myself for all of the encouragement to create something when I felt like I didn't have anything in me. And for the title and summary, and for filling my head with ideas for a possible companion piece.

“What are you doing here?” Roy stood at the front door and glared at the man in front of him. Despite his reluctant but growing respect and damn it,  _ affection _ , for the other man, seeing Ted Lasso in the doorway of his home - or Keeley’s home anyway - made him feel twitchy and off kilter.

“Hi Roy.” Ted beamed at him. “Keeley invited me over for brunch. Hey,  _ great  _ socks!”

Roy forced himself not to fidget and hoped his beard hid what felt suspiciously like a blush as he experienced the mortification of Ted fucking Lasso seeing him in sleep shorts and bright purple socks with what were clearly unicorns galloping across his toes. That they were from his six year old niece felt like a poor excuse when his niece was clearly not here to see him wear them.

“Come in then,” Roy said gruffly, stepping aside to let Ted pass.

A squeal from behind him announced Keeley’s presence. She welcomed Ted with a quick hug then slipped her arms around Roy’s waist and gave him what he could tell was meant to be a conciliatory kiss. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about brunch, babe,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you were coming round last night so I didn’t think to tell you. It’s alright, yeah? The three of us doing brunch?”

Keeley and Ted looked at him and Roy felt a growl coming on. He knew full well that Ted would leave if he said to but he could never bring himself to disappoint Keeley.

“Course it’s alright,” he said, making an effort to unclench his jaw. “I’ll just go get dressed then.”

As he headed up the stairs, Roy could hear Ted tell Keeley that he liked her house, making a point to compliment the pink decor. He had the same earnest enthusiasm he used when complimenting Roy on his socks. There hadn’t been a hint of teasing in Ted’s voice and Roy wasn’t sure which was worse, the thought that his coach might be taking the piss or getting a genuine compliment on his hideous socks, of which he had quite a collection. Phoebe, and now Keeley, picked each pair for him and no matter how weird or girly the pattern, the socks made him feel loved, cared for. Being caught wearing them by Ted Lasso, a man who noticed everything about everyone, made Roy feel seen in a way that made him defensive.

Roy would have fiercely denied it if asked, but that brunch stuck with him. He had stomped down the stairs in jeans and a fresh t-shirt, keeping the unicorn socks in a show of defiance, more for his own benefit than for the others. He had anticipated a fraught meal where his own grumpy, awkward demeanor would make him seem like a third wheel. Ted and Keeley were always so kind and easy with each other, he felt like a dark cloud hovering over their sunny day. Despite those fears, Ted and Keeley’s bright, cheerful rapport over brunch put him at ease. Roy had eventually cracked a few jokes of his own and found himself drawn into their warmth without realizing what was happening. Ted had remarked on Roy’s socks again on his way out the door before making Keeley pink with happiness at his effusive thanks for her hospitality. 

As Roy watched Keeley and Ted at the door he was struck by the impulse to buy Ted a pair of ugly socks - silly socks as Phoebe always insisted. He immediately dismissed the idea; why would he do such a thing? Men didn’t buy each other socks after a pleasant brunch. A little voice that sounded a lot like it was under Keeley’s influence suggested that  _ friends _ might do such a thing. Roy grumbled to himself and swore at the little voice, but the idea stuck with him as the weeks went by.

And then, weeks after the brunch, there they were. Hung on the end of a tacky tourist kiosk among other kitschy souvenirs, their garish stripes with yellow fucking submarines made his head ache. Roy grabbed them off the cart and shoved his money at the vendor, who grinned, clearly recognizing him. “All right, Kent?” Roy held his hand out for the change and stalked off, already cursing himself.

“Hey Roy,” Ted said, drawing the younger man into the office. Roy had been lurking, annoyed with himself for feeling like he didn’t have a right to be in his own fucking locker room. Being on injured reserve was one thing; being on injured reserve when your career was most definitely over was another, and he didn’t like feeling like an interloper among his own team. 

“Hey,” Roy said, voice characteristically gruff. Ted was clearly waiting him out; the coach had that maddening smile frozen on his face as if it wasn’t awkward as all fuck for two men to be standing around staring at each other. Finally Roy caved and pulled a crumpled brown bag from the pocket of his leather jacket. He thrust the package at Ted, gesturing impatiently when Ted took a moment to reach out and accept it.

He watched as Ted pried open the crushed bag and pulled out the socks. A brief moment passed while Ted stared at the gift, no doubt clocking the significance, and then his face lit up. Roy ducked his head; you’d have thought they won the fucking championship the way Ted was beaming at him.

“ _ Holy  _ smokes,” Ted exclaimed, holding up the socks like they were showing off gifts around the Christmas tree. “Look at these! Thank you, Roy!”

Roy growled and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, uncomfortable with the unreserved happiness and affection in the other man’s eyes. 

“Yeah, well you don’t have to thank me,” Roy said. “Phoebe picked them out for me and I don’t need any more ugly socks, so I thought you might - you said you liked - they’re just fucking  _ socks _ , alright?” He stumbled over the lie and glared at the wall, just missing the knowing smile on Ted’s face.

“Well your niece has excellent taste,” Ted told him. “You know I still haven’t made it to Abbey Road?”

“Yeah I know,” Roy muttered, still refusing to look at Ted and ducking out of the office soon after.

Outside of the club, Roy had to acknowledge that things were pretty fucking great. He was building a real life outside of football, something he hadn’t thought he wanted, nevermind something he’d ever have. His weekends were filled with trips to the the park, movies, boozy brunches with Keeley and afternoons spent in a pink haze as Phoebe and Keeley plied him with fluffy pillows and fruity drinks while the three of them planned a seventh birthday party that was guaranteed to keep his niece’s status as the coolest kid at school. Yoga was more essential to his physical and mental health than ever now that his knee was fucked and he entered the studio each week with a sigh of relief, then went home to Keeley’s knowing smile and gentle affection.

At the club, Roy still struggled. His contract had yet to be cancelled and he did as much physical work as the physio allowed. He was included in strategy meetings and spent hours watching tape with Beard and Nate. But with the new season creeping closer he knew it was only a matter of time before Ted came to him with the news that he was officially out. Maybe Ms. Welton would do it; perhaps Ted was too soft-hearted to be the one to drive the final nail in his coffin.

As the weeks went on, Roy became grumpier than usual, convinced every interaction with the coaches was meant to be his last. So when Ted got his attention in the hall with a whispered “psst”, Roy tensed up immediately. Ted had one hand on the door to the press room, clearly on his way in to face the usual crew of prick journalists. With his free hand, the older man tugged on the leg of his khakis so Roy could see a patch of bright color at his ankle. The yellow submarines looked even more garish next to the bright red of the coach’s trainers. Ted winked then ducked into the press room, leaving Roy alone in the hall. 

They were just socks. Ugly fucking socks at that. And Ted Lasso was a ridiculous person whose opinions on personal style couldn’t be trusted; his cartoon mustache proved that pretty well. And yet. Roy felt the tension leave his shoulders and a small smile touched his lips before he brusquely swiped at his face with the back of his hand. The official end of his career was likely just around the corner, but he still belonged here, in this club, with the people who shared his passion for the game, the ones who knew his history, his dreams, his faults, even here with the one person who cared enough to wear the ugly fucking socks he gave them. Roy cleared his throat and blinked away the tears he would never admit to, and headed to the locker room. He wasn’t done yet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ties (Affectionate)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948098) by [cminerva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cminerva/pseuds/cminerva)




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